Concerning the Changes of Style and Safety
by Phoenixfire123
Summary: A number of Robins had patrolled the streets of Gotham over the years. Each with a uniform that was fitted for them and their identity. Some weren't that different from each other, but always Bruce wished they would do a better job of keeping his children safe. Sometimes, they agreed.


**A/N**: This idea wiggled into the back of my mind and would not leave. I have my plate full working on other stories and projects in real-life, but this would not leave. Funny how that happens with my comic-based stories. I have written Batfam-centric stories for the YJ!verse, but this is my first in Batman canon proper. I hope I kept everything mostly in the proper timeframe and facts. Timelines are confusing. Wow, I am saying that a lot for my stories lately.

In the current continuity, as far as I could tell, Robin (all of them) had a uniform that was based reasonably off nights of crime-fighting. I'm surprised that Batman, in his infinite paranoia, took so long to reinforce the original circus outfit Dick had. Because his pixie boots were a thing in the past, and the severe lack of a child wearing protective clothing has shocked me reading older comics. Not because I don't appreciate where the design comes from but because Batman is the most prepared person in existence and he didn't give his children safer clothes right away.

* * *

Dick flipped in the air, twisting his body at the last second, and tossed a batarang at the nearest dummy. It brushed across the arm- a perfect shot to stun an opponent non-lethally, and disarm them if they were holding something. A nice one, if he did say so himself. He beamed as he landed and turned his focus to the Big Man.

Bruce stood in his Batman getup, with a frown marring his face. If Dick had to guess, sullen and annoyed, Bruce had not even taken notice of his awesome, amazing work. Instead, the he had down-turned lips, a critical eye examining his new ward. The child huffed and stood at his full height. He crossed his arms and conveyed defiant and proud enough for the Dark Knight to break and tell him what was on his mind.

It worked.

"We should work on your Robin outfit. It's not built for combat-"

"B," Dick moaned, letting his arms fall to his side. "This is _my_ outfit, my family colors, my identity. If we change it- I- we…" He didn't want to forget them. That was the reason why he was doing this. Bruce, out of all people, should know that. Instead of the emotional weight that neither wanted to address right now, the self-dubbed Robin tried the practical approach.

"This is what is familiar to me, Bruce. Anything heavier would throw me off. It's not about taking hits, it's about being agile enough to dodge them. I can't do that with a getup like yours." Urh, the cape and cowl looked stuffy as hell.

His guardian's mouth moved to reiterate his logical point. Dick could guess what he will say. _"You can learn."_ Yes, he could learn to maneuver in safer fabric and design. He did not want to hear it.

Instead, the first bird to grace the Bat's presence huffed and walked away.

-/-

The glare was annoying, Dick thought. Also, if he was honest, impressive. It took him forever to learn to glare and still convey that underneath the domino mask. He grew into it, but for the most part, he was the kid with a devilish and charming grin that made him a darling in the superhero community and one that unnerved criminals.

Still, the kid had no right to glare at him like that, not with that outfit.

Jason was dressed as Robin. _Robin_. That was his name, not belonging some street punk. And – although he knew the kid was grateful for this opportunity – he could show that more instead of looking at the original star Robin like he was now.

This was not the first time he interacted with the kid. This was not the first time interacting with him in costume. He should not be petty. However, he had no qualms showing his own bite, with his spazzy new outfit, if Jason initiated the confrontation. He would show disapproval if the young teen was not being reasonable.

"How do you function in this, anyway?" Jason spouted as he tugged on the costume. It was made of a more durable fabric, he noticed, yet remained an almost identical design. It wasn't Kevlar, it wouldn't stop bullets or heavier blunt force trauma, but it would help against common scrapes and bruises.

'It's a performer's outfit, you punk. And the Flying Grayson's last signature mark on the world.' Dick thought. He kept the emotional response to himself. Some people would call him the emotional heart of, well, anyone. The Titans, Batman, whoever. They weren't wrong, but he was still a Bat. He could hold a heated response back.

"Maybe you need to learn how to move better in it."

Okay, ouch. Sarcasm was not the better option. To be fair, the conversation leading up to this, traveling from the manor to the cave before suiting up, was just as immature and stupid as their current squabble. He thought big-brothering would be easy. Why was it so hard for the two of them to get along? Jason lurched back like he was hit. Dick felt an ounce of regret form in the pit of his stomach.

The honest, hard, truth was that he wanted to tell Jason to just deal with it. Deliver the emotional baggage, full service, of his anger at Bruce, what the Robin named meant to him and his family legacy. That the kid should respect it, or he didn't deserve it. Maybe that would make it better, to throw everything out in the open. Not the last bit – he knew enough about Jason to know he did not have a loving circus family to grow up around; that he did not have the best parentage or life on the street; that the reckless, skittish teen was waiting for a sign that he wasn't wanted, and he would bolt.

The other stuff, though, he believed he could have an adult conversation explaining his problems. Not fair to his younger brother, but they could understand each other and repair whatever this relationship was. He was Dick Grayson. He could do that.

Jason must have seen the regret in his face because his hurt expression dropped to confusion and annoyance. He gritted his teeth and stormed up to him, roughly shoving the young adult aside. The goal, if it was the same as Dick's, was to go to Alfred's freshly baked cookies before patrol.

"I would expect someone with that outfit to not understand how fashion or stealth works."

"Hey!" He fought the smile threatening to appear on his face. "This is an amazing look!"

He hoped if Jason had the chance to ask the Titans like he said he would that he would simply not, or that they would back him up. Wally had made little attempt to hide his amusement when he first showed his friends the Nightwing outfit.

-/-

His whole body ached. He was sweating. He was a mess. More than that though, Tim was happy. He was working with Batman. It was months, almost a year, since he started training with the Dark Knight, worked on getting Bruce to not self-destruct on grief. He saw his efforts pay off already, after the first month of worry and doubts went by.

Signs that Bruce came back with less injuries. That criminals were not crippled by his rage. One of the best of all, when he was allowed to hang out late at the manor waiting for the Bat to return, was when Alfred smiled in relief as a whole man returned to the Cave.

The family was healing. Tim had a hopeful spark that he could feel apart of it one day, but for now, he was happy with the change he could affect to his heroes. He worked hard. He would be a good Robin.

He took the wet cloth handed to him by Alfred and dabbed the back of his neck. His sore muscles could not hold back the euphoria he had. The fact that this was his life. Barbara would probably note how someone should use his camera to take a picture of his grin. He won't put it pass the tech-savvy redhead to do just that. She was caught up in her own work, so she could not come down and watch his training like she wanted, but she'll use the cave's cameras to get the shot anyway.

His analytical brain wondered why Oracle would want to make the long trip down here tonight of all nights. It was nothing special. His warmups were the same as ever, the drills as tedious and exhausting. All of it, routine by now. Tim was almost worried to shatter it once he was allowed on the streets.

Something was up though, instead of Bruce leading him to the Batcomputer to go over and practice case files (Tim's favorite part of Robin training), he led him to the equipment end of the Cave. Tim tilted his head to the side curiously.

Bruce stopped next to a concealed case. Not Jason's case, that was closer to the computer, the harsh reminder that B relentlessly put himself through. Tim thought it was unhealthy, but he had no place to judge that. Not when it put him in a position of even considering the notion of replacing Bruce's second son. The man punched a button next to the case, and the tinted glass cleared to reveal a new Robin design. His.

It was the most drastic change in design so far. It resembled body armor more than any circus uniform. The greens, yellows, and reds were still present, but muted to better suit a night environment which Robin patrolled. Bruce turned to look at Tim, his face daring him to suggest any changes that will hinder the security the uniform offered. Tim thought back to the lone Robin memorial, and the consequences proven. Sometimes proper armor would not be good enough. Batman, with his paranoia, would make damn sure that it came as close as possible to.

"We will do a fitting later and work on minor improvements as needed. Welcome to the team, Tim." Formal, proud, hiding emotions he would have a difficult time to explain. That was Bruce as the teen learned about him.

The boy just gaped at the Robin costume, with his eyes so wide that they stung. An overwhelming feeling of accomplishment, anxiety and daunting legacy came over him. He heard a snap and shutter of a camera, maybe his.

Looks like Alfred was there to take the picture.

-/-

Steph soured through the air. She loved to fly. She enjoyed it as Spoiler; she loved it as Robin. Rooftop to rooftop, escaping the throws off her father's negative legacy, or her strained relationship with Tim. Making Batman keep on his toes, prepared for anything. Like a good Robin should.

To be fair, their working relationship was not great. It was uncomfortable. As Spoiler, including the fact that the mantle was tied directly to the Cluemaster's schemes, she nonetheless carved her own identity. Robin… that had a lot tied to Batman, to all the boys that held it before her. She had so much to live up to. She wouldn't let the Big Bad Bat get her down, though. She would keep him on his toes as that was the best way they worked. On the edge, tempting each other to get in trouble, but pulling themselves back before either did something stupid.

At times, when Steph got injured, or bruised up remotely despite not feeling it, Bruce would look at her. It was the concern she could guess what fathers turned on their kids doing something reckless. She saw it with Gordon and Barbara when she was around both of them, or fatherly concern from Gordon when she stayed around crime scenes, waiting for the police to arrive and not letting kids being lost on the streets. It showed up on Bruce's face around Tim, Dick, or Cass, sometimes Barbara, when James Gordon was not there.

She figured that was what it was even if she didn't know it personally. So, when Batman indicated a sliver of that when around her, bruised in a fight, she got defensive. She was fine. His other Robins handled it. Cass handled it. Barbara handled it as a confined networking mastermind. Steph was fine.

If their relationship was better, Steph imagined he would chastise (more openly than he already did) her choice in actions, or her choice in Robin design. She knew it was not the best. It was what she threw together, inspired by her predecessors. She did not have the means of Batman's rich ass to make something better. Something safer. She stubbornly kept to her sown Robin outfit, inviting cuts, bruises and worse injuries to her body.

Part of her wished that Bruce would man up and demand that she change it into a secure, _official_, Robin uniform. That would be proof that he cared. No mistake, he did demand some, and changed the outfit to fit his standards. Seeing his protective, worried looks, made her think that he believed she needed more protection, more safety measures (and likely trackers) in her uniform. Maybe it was because she was a girl, and Bruce was not as comfortable in their relationship as he was with Cass (who was a master of without-words, better than him) or Barbara. It was presumptuous to ask a girl to change what they were wearing, being the boss man or not.

However, Dick spoke about how Bruce was stubborn on wanting him to get a better uniform for years. And somehow when Dick switched to Nightwing, Bruce allowed the Discowing be a thing in existence.

Maybe it was not because she was a girl. Maybe it was just her. B and her will never gel in the way any of the others did. He could never be comfortable enough on his authority over her to make an executive decision on her uniform.

Stephanie thought, in the end, it wouldn't have made much of a difference.

At least, though, Bruce acknowledged her as Robin.

-/-

Dick walked up to Damian, who was scribbling on a sketchpad. He was glad the little assassin had taken up something normal, like a child would. His littlest brother definitely needed it. It would help. Especially now, it would help.

He was curious and glanced over the kid's shoulder. "Grayson," Dami's voice was stiff. He continued on his artwork. Dick studied it – it was a Robin costume. Different than Tim's, different from everybody's. It screamed Damian from the pages. He was impressed, also concerned. The child had an ironclad belief, presumptuous as it was, that Robin belonged to him. That extended to Batman once he was older. It did not help his superiority complex.

It also was not much of a different design than what Dick was preparing downstairs.

He had told no one about it yet. Besides Alfred. The old butler had said he should break the news soon, but be wary when he did. This was a sensitive time for all of them. Dick agreed. He did not know how he could break the news, and he put it off in dread. He had to deliver it perfectly, so Damian knew the responsibility, and he didn't push Tim further away with how reclusive he was being.

This wasn't bad. He thought. The design or that Damian was making it. Whatever helped the child cope after… after. God, he couldn't even think it. How could he keep this family together? He gulped and kept his voice cheery.

"What are you working on, Dami?"

The trained assassin tutted at the nickname. Dick didn't want a knife at his throat, but he thought the sound was adorable and childlike, while trying to make himself sound adult. "If you must know, Grayson, I am working on _my_ Robin design." It was not pleading; it was authoritative. There was a touch of askance in that, bordering on a command, assuming he would get the mantle and soon.

The tightness' in Dick's throat nearly choked him. "I see. It looks nice." He could say no more than that. Maybe he should. He studied the sketch again. There were more blacks than he personally liked, and the gauntlets were different. The Grayson colors were there, and with the thick fabric drawn out – likely with the mind of Kevlar and other state of the art defenses – it was built like a tank for a small, maneuverable body. He made note of it and ruffled the kid's hair.

"I'll see you at dinner, Dami."

'How am I going to do this?' He thought. Dread built inside him on the inevitable conversation Alfred advised him on. It was the right decision, but how? How?!

"I miss you Bruce. And the cape and cowl _are_ as stuffy as hell." A strangled, soft laugh escaped his lips. Damian looked over his shoulder, but the first boy wonder ignored him as he headed in for food.

* * *

**A/N**: Each section turned into a monster while at first, I intended each to be only drabble length, heh. Out of all of them, Steph's was the hardest, because although I love her, I haven't read much on her time as Robin. I don't remember if Damian had any input in his design, but it feels like something he would do. I ran with it.

Let me know what you think, and thanks for reading!


End file.
